Latitudes
by tdinttwrt
Summary: Checking in on the new pocket-universe Gallifrey after the events of The Day of the Doctor, the Tenth Doctor finds it is a much nicer place than he remembers. It's also the only home the Ninth Doctor has ever known. An AU Rose/Ten reunion fic.
1. Chapter 1 - Homeward Bound

Last of the Time Lords…nope. Gallifrey lives!

He should be happy. He was, really. Well, maybe not happy…relieved. Glad…ish? It was hard to process, really. He was still quite sorry for what he had been willing to do, releasing The Moment. Thrilled it had not been the genocidal action he thought it was at first go.

He was also a little anxious that they were back, all the Time Lords. What if they began interfering again? With the universe, with him. What would keep them from dragging him into some new awful mess that should never be allowed to have become? Or something like that. Verbs, touchy things with time traveling. He nervously scratched at his neck.

Maybe he should pop 'round and give them a look-see…give them a what for, more likely! "Bloody bastards!" he cried into the vault of the control room. "What did you put me through?" He paced for a minute, trying to decide what to do about all this, if anything. The planet was safely tucked away, for now. Perhaps that's where it should stay, inside a pocket, left well enough alone.

The urge to see it again, the silver trees, the reddening skies, the acquaintances and relations he had given up long ago, that urge was so very strong. How many years had he lived with that little mini-scoped momentori of the place in his voluminous transdimensional left trouser pocket, taking it out from time to time to gaze into its time-lensed landscape, his hearts almost breaking? How many times had he brooded in a secret room deep in the Tardis he kept tricked out to look like a favorite hillside overlooking the great citadel? Now he could, albeit at a tremendous amount of calculated risk and a good deal of effort, have the real thing. Amazing. He could go home. "Home," he tentatively murmured the word.

The Tardis hummed. He reached out a hand to her, stroking gently. "Don't be nervous, now. You know you've always been my real home, since the day we ran off together. If we do make it back for a visit, I promise it won't be for long, then it will be just you and me again, old girl, tramping towards the journey's end, together."

He wished there were someone to discuss this over with. He knew what Rose would have said, what she would have wanted. For herself and him. She had always wished to see Gallifrey, she tenderly told him, when he had finally shared his secret room with her one hushed evening. She had cried when he plucked off a shimmering Cadonwood leaf and set it gently in her open hand. She been such a comfort to him all those years he thought he had killed his people, killed his world. She would be overjoyed to know that burden was lifted from him, now.

That was Rose all over. No wonder his mind had perceived The Moment in her form. She had been so brave and loyal. "Is," he corrected himself aloud. "Is brave and loyal." In his mind, she would always be living out a safe, and hopefully contented, life one universe away.

It angered him that her universe was permanently sealed away from him, but he could think of five ways to access the pocket universe in which Gallifrey lay. Not fair. A quivering swell of tears threatened to overtop the rims of his eyes and rain down upon the console. He'd have to get a better hold on himself if he was going to Gallifrey. Wouldn't do to arrive all weepy, not amidst that self-important lot of humorless buttoned-down prigs, and-why exactly did he want to go there, again?

Perhaps if he just popped in and out, quickly, only to see who had made it through the Time War, ask if he might lend a hand rebuilding for a day or two. Get his mind off Rose. Honestly, it had been rather awful, seeing her-but-not-her today. Gut-wrenching. "I tell you what, old girl," he said to his ship, "let's go check in and see if they need anything, what do you say?" He reached out to his controls and began bending the fabric of space and time. He needed a do-over. He was going to get it.


	2. Chapter 2 - Cracking Time

Rose shrugged on her jumping jacket and zipped in. Its leather thick but pliable, it was a dazzling shade of purple-cum-indigo, all zippers and high fashion for Pete's World at the time. Rose wanted something bad-ass to gird her ribcage, and her heart, while she put them both on the line, ripping holes in the universe, searching for him. Then there were the eye-popping body-hugging velvet tops, the bespoke boots, the designer jeans, the oversized gold gypsy hoops. Word got around Torchwood: "She jumps in 'er night-clubbing clobber!" "Have to look presentable when I save the universe, yeah?" she would explain.

It was time for another go. Rose's stomach growled noisily; she had eaten nothing for twelve hours, as dimension cannon was an immensely nauseating way to travel. Jake laughed. "Hope they got a chippie on the corner when you land," he said.

It was only Jake and Mickey with her. They were the only ones allowed in these few minutes before she left out, at her own request. Not because they were experts, far from it, but these moments were hard on her, and she knew her nerves would not support a bunch of engineers bustling about. Torchwood's Trans-Dimensional Cannon team would just have to find a way to monitor things from another room. She had her two "button-pushers," and that's all she wanted. Jake because he was silly, he kept things light. Mickey because he was the only one in this universe who really understood where they came from, what she had been through. If she never made it back, if the stars finished going out one by one before she could contact the Doctor and find a solution, she wanted Mickey there with her as near the end as possible.

Pete had wanted them to jump together, originally, her and Mick. He was a big believer in the buddy system, a leftover from his Scouting days, evidently. But the Director of Torchwood had to finally bow to the evidence their scientists were giving them that the dimension cannon could only take one person at time. More than that, and the holes they were punching in their universe would get beyond safety parameters. Though using the words "dimension cannon" and "safe" together was problematic: this enterprise was in no way "safe", for anyone, in any number. If the sky had not been going dark they would have never risked the trauma of trans-dimensional travel. They knew it was cracking the carapace of space-time, and though, theoretically, disturbances limited below a certain threshold would naturally right themselves, they could never be sure how the cannon would perform in the field. Certainly the more jumps Rose made, the more of a statistical chance there was for something surprising to occur, and not in a good way.

Rose was well aware that the possibility of seeing her Doctor again, to touch him, hear his voice, feel the warmth of him pressed to her in the reuniting embrace she had obsessively fantasised since the day the cannon was proposed, that possibility was merely appended to their need to stop all of existence from being snuffed out like a candle-flame. This was not about her finding her lost love. It was about saving this galaxy, maybe even the entire universe, she told herself. Still, she could not stop her heart from beating wildly, or keep herself from grinning madly, eyes wide with joy, as she crouched down now on the polished concrete floor and heard Jake flicking open the safety lid on the cannon's controls.

"Oi, Annie Oakley," Mickey handed Rose an absurdly large plasma rifle. "Don't forget your gun."

"Thanks, Mick," Rose smiled, flinging the strap over her shoulder. She looked at Jake, poised at the controls, and gave one, short, nod. She was ready.

"Mind the universe while I'm gone, all right, boys–" and the flash of brilliant blue streaking light took her along with her words, toward whatever destination fate might have in store.


	3. Chapter 3 - Jumping In

"Here," Rose whispered into her communication link. It took an enormous quantity of energy to get each message through, so they had trained themselves early on to keep it short. Mick and Jake were likely beside themselves with curiosity as to what she was seeing, at each jump, but they would have to wait to find out.

Not that Rose knew what she was seeing, either, not exactly. She had landed in a thick wood with dappled sunlight, by a rushing stream that poured its clear water along a bed of smoothed, round rocks. Larger moss-covered boulders dotted the bank, hosting in their lee scattered clumps of plants that looked like Earth ferns, except these were a warm orange color. That was all fairly normal, but just beyond the wood there was a large clearing where, she could see through the tree trunks, there were humanoids, dressed all alike, moving in unison. She quietly walked forward to get a better look.

The field was covered by yellow-gold grass, neatly kept, making a fine public space for the dozens of people upon it. Male and female, all wore the same brilliant blue sarong, fastened at the shoulder. Rose recognized their movement as a sort of tai-chi-chuan. "They're having their morning exercise," she guessed. She waited patiently, not wanting to interrupt, and took in the rest of the area. Beyond the open field were neatly-landscaped gardens.

A bell rang and all the people bowed quietly then broke ranks. As some strolled off and others began chatting up their neighbors, Rose took a deep breath and stepped out of the woods. They all looked friendly enough. Sometimes a direct approach was the best thing. A pair of friends, a woman and younger man, paused in their conversation to watch her curiously, smiling as she neared. "Excuse me," she said, "I'm looking for a man they call the Doctor."

"Where have you walked from, then?" the woman asked.

"Oh, just popped in," Rose answered.

"Who did you say you were looking for again?" asked the man.

"The Doctor," Rose answered. "Travels around in a blue box with a little light on the top of it? No?"

"Sounds like something he'd do," said the young man. "He's forever making gadgets, don't know why he left the Academy, really."

The woman suggested, "Let's take her up to town. The Doctor was going fishing this morning but he's likely back by now."

"So you do know someone here goes by that name?" Rose asked, as they began walking.

"Yes," the two answered, but by the time they had led her through the public gardens and out into a town of rustic dwellings built into the earth, serviced by lanes of pounded dirt where all the native were evidently on foot, Rose had concluded that this Doctor they were going to see must be merely the village GP, and that these people were too technologically backward to be of any further help. Still, she thought she would be polite and at least let them finish their errand on her behalf, before jumping off again.

They came to a large earth-building, its front glass walls slid open to the morning air, its yard scattered with large bits of junk. Happy whistling came from inside, then a bit of singing in a competent baritone: 

_Winding a worm 'round me hook,  
It gave me a quizzical look.  
I threw me rod down,  
And walked into town,  
To round up a chicken to cook!_

"Doctor!" called out Rose's guides, together.

A tall, chiseled man, wearing nothing but a pair of drape-y, blue running shorts and a rubber apron came strolling out his front door, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "Good morning," he greeted them.

"This lady says she's looking for you," ventured the woman.

"She is?" he answered, and looked Rose over.

Fixed by those blue eyes appraising her up and down, those shining eyes in that beloved face she knew so well but had almost forgotten, in the cruel way time treats everything we hold dear, Rose could not think of what to say. She began to tremble, and then, to her own dismay, found herself bursting into tears.

Her legs began to give way, and if this man who was, impossibly, her first Doctor, had not come to her in two strides and caught her up in his strong hands, she would have dropped straight to the ground.

"Oi, none of that, now!" he said to her gently, and pulled her up into his arms. As he carried her inside, to have a proper look at her in the small surgery he kept at home, he bent his head closer to her, to hear her heartbeat. He smiled. He felt the appropriate amount of concern for her, of course, but he was thrilled something out of the ordinary was happening today. He was the type who was always wishing for something exciting, and this girl surely fit the bill. Not only did she have void energy all over her, and a trans-dimensional travel device strapped to her arm, she was also an alien. Yep, he confirmed, hearing her one heart-beat: definitely not Gallifreyan.


	4. Chapter 4 - Madman in a Box

It had been a bumpy ride, indeed. He had thought there were five ways he might puncture through unimpeded to the pocket universe where Gallifrey spun, but turns out there was only one, and it had been a doosie. He massaged the growing lump on his skull. Damn that Fourier-stringshift tensioner knob, he thought, and made a mental note to move it straightaway, somewhere down at knee-level, when he'd done with his little impromptu Old Home Day.

He did not peek with the view screen, wishing instead to see his miraculously restored home-planet directly in person, and all at a rush, a "big reveal" as it were, in keeping with the solemn consequence of the moment: The Doctor Returns. They would have sensed his materialisation sequence, the information spreading quickly. It was bound to have sent all sorts of important Lords and Ladies, along with grateful members of the general public, scrambling to greet him. "Might just throw me a banquet," he mused, and found himself remembering Gallifrey's famous Phlogian soufflés. Still thinking of the soufflé, how the introduction of proper colloidal foams at three points in the whipping process made the eggs and oat flour rise higher than a man's head, he swung both Tardis doors dramatically out into the heart of the Citadel's main plaza and posed there, proudly, for a moment, remarking (about the soufflé, of course, not the plaza), "It's so fluffy!"

There was no one about to witness this curious entrance save a pair of Academy students, young women, who put their hands over their mouths and giggled.

"Excuse me," he asked, walking to where they sat perched on a low wall beside their stacked readers and the matrix-erudition-access beanies from which they were currently taking a break. The girls regarded him brightly. "Thought I would stop in and see how you were all getting on." They were unresponsive to this small speech. Was it possible they did not know him? "It's me. Oh, perhaps you've only seen a former incarnation-but surely you know my Tardis," he said, gesturing back toward the ship he had just emerged from. "Bit famous, now, I'm sure!"

"We were informed parking of TT capsules is not allowed in recreational areas," one remarked, archly.

"And shouldn't you always have it in plain-front, here on Gallifrey?" asked the other. She turned to her companion. "Truliana, I've forgot again, is it Sections 48 tango through zed or 63 alpha to delta that cover the standard appearance of capsules when berthed?"

"62, Jordna," Truliana replied, shaking her head.

Jordna sighed. "Before exams next week I'll have to revisit that entire Codex yet again. For the life of me I can't seem to retain it."

"She's right about the rule, though," Trulania scolded the Doctor. "Its purpose, as you must know from your own training, is to keep the original manufacturer's marks clearly visible, so that you may be identified at a glance." She narrowed her eyes and asked, "How do we know you're not an alien who has stolen this capsule?"

"Yes," Jordna chimed in, "unauthorised use of a TT capsule is a serious matter. You could get up to all sorts of no good with one of those."

The Doctor tugged at his left earlobe. "Well, uh, yes…"

"Who did you say you were?" Truliana inquired.

"The Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"Yes, exactly!" he cried, rather too loudly. "Saved your planet and a sack more, couple weeks back?" he went on, beginning to bounce on his toes excitedly. "Trillions of lives on countless worlds, thousands of advanced civilisations spared from being blasted out of time by the terrible Moment?" At their blank stares he added, gesturing across the air one word at a time, "Gallifrey Falls No More?" Then he shot two fingers into the air and pretended to shake something back and forth. "Ding-a-ling-a-ling! Ring any bells?" The Doctor's voice had become shrill, his face red.

During this speech, the girls had begun to stand, gingerly gathering up their things whilst keeping out one watchful eye. Backing away, slowly, Jordna put on a weak smile and lightly proclaimed, "Oh, look at the time, sorry but we'll have to be getting on, now."

"Classes, you know," Truliana added, reaching to turn her friend's shoulder in the direction of the nearest exit, pushing to urge her away.

As the girls made a rapid retreat, the Doctor called after them, "Can you at least inform someone I'm here?" They did not respond, and were quickly gone from view.

The Doctor scanned the vaulted roof of the plaza, knowing there must be several cameras about. He waved his arms and shouted, "Hello! I'm here! Last of the Time Lords no more and all that! Hello!" The stillness unnerved him. His arms fell to his sides. "Blimey," was all he could get out, and he puffed up his cheeks and let out a deep, disappointed sigh.

A few hundred metres down the west walkway, Main Plaza Security Station Three was, indeed, watching closely. They had been monitoring the situation since hearing the Tardis' first groanings. A short, dapper man with a thin face, wearing a Captains braids, was worriedly speaking into a nearby microphone. "Yes, sir, he's still here, just standing about. Yes, the doors are wide open to it, and it appears fairly...messy, in there, sir, messy is the word for it. Like it's been in an accident. Yes, sir. Roger that." The man flicked off the communications unit, then turned to two other security men who were at attention, awaiting orders. "We're asked to stand by. Two members of the Council and their Chamber Guard are on their way to deal with him, themselves."

"I say, he must be one a theirs, fellow Time Lord, eh? And they think he's a dangerous one, at that!" remarked one of the security men.

"Stand by, alright then, I will," replied the other, but in a gruff tone added, "though no promises if I sees 'im menacin' any more of our impressionable young people."

"Just hold tight, Dunleedy," his fellow officer said, rolling his eyes. "The man is obviously a loon, he doesn't need you rearranging his skull."

"No, Peete," said the Captain, a broad smile breaking out on his face at his own coming joke, "a psychiatrist'll tend to that!"

All three laughed loudly, then turned their eyes back to watch the intruder.

"He's got a coat like a space pirate I saw in a film, once, as a boy," remarked Dunleedy.

"His hair is certainly gone wild," noted the Captain.

"Didn't realise how quiet it's been around here, lately. Exciting stuff, this," grinned Peete. "Exciting stuff!"


	5. Chapter 5 - Don't They Fish in Your Univ

"You're not feeling light-headed, are you?" the Doctor asked Rose.

She shook her head, "No".

He took up her wrist between his thumb and forefinger and felt for her pulse. Satisfied it was normal for her species, probably human, he guessed, he put her hand down and then squatted in front her. To her flushing consternation, began gently squeezing up her dangling legs, fingering her joints and major arterial junctions, going from her ankles to her hips then standing to lean intimately over her, feeling up her ribs to her shoulders, then finishing down her arms. He noted her increased rate of respiration, and a rush of vasodilation in her facial capillaries. That was a good sign, he thought, as it assured him she was in no danger of shock.

By the time the Doctor gathered his fingertips together and without warning banged them hard and swift just under her left kneecap, forcing her foot to leap reflexively up into the air, Rose had gathered her wits. She jumped down from the examination table and put her arms out to him, her palms flat. "That's enough," she commanded. "There's nothing wrong with me, I'm fine".

"That so?" he asked, pulling up tall, and crossing his arms over his chest in a musing stance as he studied her.

"It was the shock, of, you," she began, "you being him but the wrong him, you're younger than he was, for one thing, and he never said he was a country Doctor…" Rose realized she was saying too much, and stopped talking immediately. It would not do to disturb these primitive people, even if one of them did look exactly like her first Time Lord.

He cocked one eyebrow but carefully kept the rest of his face neutral. He eyed his bloodbot–might be a good idea to have it check her dopamine levels. Would be easier, of course, if he could talk her into peeing into a cup and letting him smell it, but he guessed that might not go over.

"Can I check yer blood, then?"

"No! You cannot. Really, I have to be leaving."

"Hmm, do you, now?" He casually leaned back against his tall lab bench, careful not to knock against his new multi-photonic instrinsic emission microscope and inquired, "Mind if I ask where to?"

"Umm, back South, I have a…train?...to catch." She turned, making to head for the door.

"Must be quite a train," he replied, slyly, "if it can traverse the Void."

That stopped Rose short. She turned around and paused in the doorway, trying to think how she might reveal as little as possible about herself, while obtaining more information. She went with her Torchwood training for such situations: deny everything, and make counter accusations. "Don't know that town. Void, did you say? You been? If you know all about it, maybe you can tell me what it's like."

He grinned. He loved a challenge. "Nope, never been there myself, but I know its energy signature when I see it. And I know you've not been riding any trains, not with that strapped to yer arm." He gestured to Rose's time jump activator cuff, which, inconveniently, began blinking one of its tiny blue lights. They both stared at the little indicator. "Gonna answer that?" he asked.

Rose shrugged. "I haven't reported in for a while." He was still leaning back against his bench, resting upon his elbows, his forearms draped over the counter's edge, hands dangling, relaxed, waching her. Damn, he was good-looking, she thought. Past her initial shock at seeing him out in the street, she now slowly took in his shirtless condition, his chest and broad shoulders barely covered by the bib of his rubber apron, and his split-up-the-sides satin shorts riding high up his massive, muscled thighs graced with sworls of blonde, downy hair, and he was about a decade in human time younger than he had been when she knew him, she thought, who knew what that was in Time Lord years, but he was definitely younger, and she reached his eyes and he was looking directly into her eyes, and oh, she caught her breath and silently cursed. Lifting her wrist up to speak into the communicator, she said, simply, "Recon in progress."

"So you're checking us out, are you," he said, in what Rose could have sworn was a lowered, sultry, tone.

He stood and stepped toward her, motioning for her to leave his surgery. "If there's nothing wrong with you, out with you, then, you're burnin' up me batteries with these lights." He followed her out into the hall, the room's bright examination lights cutting off automatically as he shut the door. He moved in front of her, and led her into a small living area that made one large space with his kitchen and the front entryway they had come through before.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, motioning to the one seat in the place that was clear of books, pieces of electronic junk with wires poking out from all sides, and sheaves of yellowed papers. Amidst the chaos, a threadbare footstool carried the evidence of yesterday's tea-for-one. She took in the worn china service, evidently a beloved antique, ringed with dried-up dribbles and smattered with crumbs.

"Care for some tea?" he politely inquired.

Rose looked over into his kitchen. Two large, rainbow-colored fish lay split open upon a board over a double-sink, expertly cleaned and gutted. Beside the sink was an induction kettle, before it a stack of mismatched tea-cups and saucers, and next to those, a metal bucket filled with severed fish heads staring back at her.

"Uh, thanks, but no thanks," she answered, wrinkling her nose.

He swung around to see what what she looking at, and threw his head back and laughed. "Not ordering the tuna tartare, then?" he teased. He walked to her, and clearing a spot on a low settee across from where she sat, he leaned forward closely, fixing her with his bright, blue eyes and asked, softly, "Don't they fish, in your universe?"


	6. Chapter 6 - Welcoming Committee

Councilman Braxiatel was racing down the corridors behind fourteen of his High Security forces, trying to keep up with them. Irving Braxiatel looked to be a mere lad of two hundred and fifty, but in reality he had a few centuries on any of his guard. He was quite winded by the time he arrived at the Main Plaza. His last regeneration had not been all it should have, and he vowed to pay more attention to the particulars on the next round. Longer legs, for one, that was going on the list of must-haves.

"Narvin, are you coming, man, or not?" he spoke into his communicator. Braxiatel had the intruder and his capsule in view. The guard had formed an echelon, with himself at the left flank, and were edging into the open, triangular space.

"Narvin!" Braxiatel urged, "you've got to cover the east corridor, NOW."

He relaxed when he saw another dozen guards pour from the east entrance, behind the intruder's capsule. They had all the exits blocked, now for the capsule. Its doors were hanging open, revealing an interior lit in pulsing shades of orange and red, with its time rotor a ridiculous discotheque blue (really, who could get any science done in a setting like that? he wondered). They needed to secure it, to stop the interloper from possibly darting back into it and taking off again. Braxiatel lifted up a little black box and pushed three buttons in rapid sequence, aiming at the capsule. Its doors slammed shut, and with one flash of the inexplicable light set atop of it, went silent.

The Doctor had not had but forty seconds to witness this assault on his position, and he might have responded, escaped even, but he was too busy getting ready to receive his welcoming committee as they came around the corner, then he was too occupied being overjoyed to see his older brother Irving alive and well and in a High Council collar, no less, then he was too astonished at apprehending he was being surrounded by security forces who did not look happy to see him.

The Doctor was standing, agape, when the security forces swarmed him from all sides, and Councilmen Braxiatel and Narvin stepped through them to confront him, in all their pomp and pique.

"What is your purpose in intruding here, and from where did you obtain a time travel capsule?" Braxiatel demanded.

"Irving?" the Doctor said, the smile which had overtaken him at first seeing his brother saddening now. "What's the matter? Aren't you glad to see me?"

Braxiatel looked around to see whom the stranger might be addressing, but none of the guard were moved by the man's address. He turned back to the intruder. "Are you talking to me?"

"Irving, don't tell me you can't recognize your own brother," the Doctor said, hands spread in supplication.

Narvin raised an eyebrow, and spoke for his fellow Councilman. "Lord Braxiatel has a brother, but it is not you, sir, so if you would be so kind as to cease your mendacious assertions and give us the answers to the questions put to you–"

"I am not being mendacious!" the Doctor protested, "but I am getting downright put out, with the lot of you, is what I am," he continued, "of all the ungrateful, and Irving, why are you hanging out with HIM," he hissed, jabbed his finger in Narvin's direction, "I mean, since when would you have anything to do with the Celestial Intervention Agency!"

Braxiatel replied, "The what?"

The Doctor hung his head down and shook it glumly. "Never thought they'd lick you, Irv," he muttered, toeing some invisible bit of debris on the ground then kicking it hard towards his sibling, who, oddly, dodged to the side to avoid being hit.

"Look, whoever you are," Braxiatel replied, "you're either throwing red kippers or you're mad, but my only brother is, by choice, an Outsider, and neither he nor any of his silly medicant Acolytes of Karn friends would know how to fly a TT capsule, having all dropped out of the Academy, if they ever qualified. So unless you have regenerated without letting anyone at the House of Lungbarrow know, which would be the height of rudeness, even for you, I mean, him, then I entreat you to desist from your claim on me, and, for Rassilon's sake, STOP CALLING ME IRVING."

"You really don't know me then?" the Doctor queried, looking back and forth from Narvin to Braxiatel, composing himself.

In unison, the men answered, "NO."

"Right-o, then," the Doctor quipped, and wheeling on his toes he was at the doors to his Tardis and had plucked his key from his pocket, holding it at the lock, before the surrounding guards could twitch. The lock did not spring. He pressed his key again to it, to no avail. He turned around and glared at the assembly and gritted out, teeth clenched, "What have you done to my Tardis?"


	7. Chapter 7 - This Disappointing Planet

"Of course there's fish, and people, fishing. There." Rose was feeling a bit discombobulated by his leaning in so very near to her, so close she could scent his breath. _Air from my lungs…_ She was remembering that real Him, on their first outing together at the end of the world, so long ago now. Curious, she turned a sudden laser-focused attention on this strange twin, and studied his features, his posture, trying to find Him in this one. The bemused look he was giving her, his casual pose all limbs and grace for someone so large, that was Him. She sucked in a little breath, and another tear threatened to jump loose. She looked down and shuffled her feet to hide it.

"You said I reminded you of someone," he prompted her, gently, seeing her sadness returning.

Damn him, how could he read her like that, it was truly irksome. This Doctor could always suss her out, she could not hide a thing from him. He knew she loved him, he had kissed her... It was a skill her second Doctor, the one she was looking for, sadly did not retain when he regenerated. That version, he had been absolutely thick when it came to them, and how they so obviously felt about one another. Maddeningly so. And then it had been too late. She sighed. Their unrequited love was not going to get resolved, ever, probably, and certainly not here, and there were "Stars going out!" she blurted.

The Doctor before her cocked an eyebrow.

She looked into his face and said, earnestly, "That's why I'm looking for him. Our stars are all going out. Not exploding, just, poof, out, like they never were. No energy signatures, no explanation. And it's not just in my universe, it's rolling across all of them, we think. So we built this cannon so I could look for him, there's no Time Lords in my second universe, he got stuck in the first, you see, the one I was born in, and I wasn't supposed to ever be able to get there, but now I think I can, so we've been trying–"

"Whoa, there," the Doctor stopped her, "slow down. You're looking for a Time Lord?"

She nodded.

He scratched at the stubble on his chin he had not tended to yet today, thinking up the best way to approach this. He really did not fancy taking her to the Citadel, had not been back since he told them all to go regenerate themselves second year of Academy. Maybe he could pawn the errand off on Drax, he enjoyed tormenting Time Lords. "Citadel's a three day walk across the mountains from here. That's where you want if you're looking for one a' them. Though, I have to say, I'm disappointed. Pretty young girl like you, seem nice enough, how do you know one of them bastards? You say he looks like me?" The Doctor was making a face like he smelled something rancid.

Rose's eyes widened, and she leapt to her feet. "You mean I'm on Gallifrey? THE Gallifrey?"

He looked up at her, and said, "Where'd you think you were?"

"Some backward planet, from the looks of things," she replied. "Certainly not the cradle of the most powerful civilisation in the universe!"

"Backward?" he said, offended. "Nevermind your insulting me village, we'll get 'round to that later, what I wanna know is you're not seriously jumping around blind without any kind of coordinates for that thing, are you?" He was pointing to her time cannon controls still strapped to her arm. When Rose hesitated, not denying it immediately, he got to his feet and towered over her, shaking his finger at her, his voice rising. "That's insane, is what that is! What if ye'd landed in the middle of the ocean? Just about every planet's got oceans. Or volcanoes!"

"Well, I didn't land in a volcano, did I," Rose answered tersely, "and now that I'm finally on the right planet, I might have a chance to find him…" She drifted off from her sentence, realising something that made her collapse back down on the chair again with a defeated plop. She put her head down into her hands and said, "But that's not possible, is it, because this planet," she looked up at him, "it's not here anymore, not when He is, which makes YOU," she reached out, gesturing for his hand which he let slip into hers, in a gesture she was repeating unconciously, that would be their favorite gesture, "HIM, but him from our past." She gave a tug, coaxing him to sit again. Her heart was soaring at the same moment it was falling. He had no idea of the horror that was to be his future. She knew she should not tell him anything more, but she felt she owed him some sort of explanation. He would have to wipe their meeting here, now, anyway, to protect the time lines.

When he had sat back down before her, their hands still softly touching, she looked into his eyes and broke the news to him as gently as she could. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but there's going to be a terrible war."

"Gallifrey, involved in a war?" He did not sound convinced, at all. In fact, he sounded as if he thought that were impossible.

She continued to cradle his hand, wanting to comfort him against the blow. He was a kind and peaceful man at heart, and she knew the events of the Time War had wounded him terribly, body and soul. "Yes, a war with the Daleks. It's going to destroy Gallifrey, and hundreds of other worlds, and somehow you're right at the center of it."

He was shaking his head, his expression moving from skepticism to irritation. "Just how do you think you know all this?" he demanded.

"I've just now worked it out," Rose replied. "You're you, but before I met you. We met after the Time War, the Time War with the Daleks. You stop them, you see, it's you who defeats them, and you save so many worlds, but your own is lost. All that's the future, though, and you're not supposed to know any of this." She squeezed his hand in sympathy. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to use your helmet thing on the Tardis to forget I've told you all this, it's either that, or I'm going to have to wipe your memory myself and I think our way is a bit more barbaric. Leaves a nasty headache."

The Doctor had been growing increasingly agitated during Rose's speech, and now he was outright angry. He grabbed back his hand from hers and snarled, "Oh come on! I've a mind to check your head again for lumps, must've missed one. Seriously, I've better fish to fry than to listen to you talk bollocks all day, and I mean that literally, 'bout me fish. Another hour an' they'll not be as nice, far superior eatin' 'em fresh." He stood and stalked over to his sink where he grabbed up a filet knife. "War with the Daleks," he scoffed, starting to skin the first of his catch, "the most peace-lovin' race that ever lived, dedicated only to the care and betterment of all sentient beings, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." He stopped and turned to throw her a scowl and waving the filet knife in her direction he added, "And no-one's gonna wipe me memories." He turned back to his lunch. "What the perdition's a turdis, anyhow?"

Rose leaned back and glumly studied his ceiling, a smooth dome of plaster studded with a few solar lights. And cobwebs. She lifted her thumb to her lips to chew the side of her nail, something she often did when she was puzzling things over. _Never heard of the Tardis. Peaceful Daleks._ She had thought this Doctor might actually be Him, for a moment there, but Daleks had never been peaceful. Never, ever. Much less helpful. She could think of only one possible explanation, and it dashed her hopes: this Doctor, this Gallifrey, must be alternate versions, like Pete's world was an alternate of her own home universe. She had not thought it possible. Her Doctor had always insisted that there was only one Gallifrey, one race of Time Lords, ever. Only one Him, in all of time and space. No alternates. "He must have been wrong," she mused aloud to herself. Addressing the Doctor at the sink, she asked him, "So you don't have a Tardis? Blue police box, light on top, flies around through time and space, bigger on the inside?"

"You mean a time travel capsule? Never flown one in me life and don't intend to," he said. "Don't believe in it." He sliced off a series of beautifully thin filets, piling them neatly on a platter. "Messing with time is wrong." He turned to her again, throwing her another deep scowl. "Wrong like that gun parked outside me front door. I've a mind to go toss that into the lake before you vaporize yourself or someone else, except it might hurt the fish." He turned his back to her again to finish his scolding. "Just 'cause you invent technology doesn't mean it's a good idea to use it, you know."

Rose stood and approached, stopping just behind him. "Well, then," she started, "my apologies, for interruptin' your morning like this, and you're right, I wish I didn't have to have my rifle, but I've been in quite a few bad spots, since I started traveling with you, Him, I mean, and it comes in handy. Sad to say." He did not respond, so she went on. "Despite being told it's impossible, I think I've concluded this is an alternate universe. You're not the Doctor, and this isn't Gallifrey. Not the ones I'm looking for, anyway. You," she finished, and to her horror another unbidden sob appeared, contracting her voice, "you can't help me. I, I think I'll just go now." Tears were welling up in earnest, and she turned to make a quick dash for the door, wanting to retrieve her offending weapon and jump off this most disappointing planet before she started weeping, for she knew once she started, she wasn't going to be able to stop, not for a long, long while.


	8. Chapter 8 - In Need of a Lift

"Hey, hey, now," the Doctor exclaimed, mortified. He quickly set down his knife and went after the crying girl. He caught up with her outside, trying to collect up her ridiculous gun through her sobs. "Look," he reasoned with her, "you're obviously in need of a lift in a TT capsule, and you'll need someone who knows more about trans-dimensional physics than I do if you want to find your guy." Rose was still dripping tears down onto her plasma rifle, slung across her hips. "I swear they're a mob of nosey plonkers, but the Time Lords'll still be yer best bet," he said, craning his head down and sideways to try and see up into her face.

A small group of blue sarong-clad villagers came walking by, casting curious eyes at the scene outside the Doctor's door. A woman with copper-colored hair and mirth in her green eyes took in Rose's distress and called out, "Charming the ladies again, eh, Thete?"

The Doctor stuck his tongue out at the woman, which made the group laugh. Rose looked up, and seeing them all staring at her, gave a little wave. They smiled at her and waved back. She wondered they did not seem shocked to see a stranger, with a giant gun, crying in the middle of their village. She thought perhaps she had been too quick to think of them as unsophisticated.

"Come on, stop that cryin' now." He was trying to sound gruff but really he felt terrible. Everyone told him his bedside manner stunk and he was beginning to think it might be so. "Look, you stop cryin', and I promise I'll take you to the Citadel myself. Got a friend, Drax, he'll know who to ask for help when we get there."

"Really?" Rose said, standing blinking in the sunshine, wiping tears that still would not stop their streaming down her cheeks. "Will you? Could you?" Her voice had regained some hope.

"Sure, love, sure I will." He came up and put an arm around her shoulders, carefully plucking the plasma rifle off her shoulder first and setting it distastefully back down on the ground. He guided her back inside, saying, "Let's get you a good cuppa, first, and then you can tell me about him. The man you're looking for. Who you thought I was. Before. Do I have it right?"

Rose nodded and sniffed, her tears finally subsiding as she let him sit her back down in his easy chair. Hearing this Doctor say he wanted to hear about the other Doctor made Rose peer out at him from behind the disheveled hair that had been hanging in her face. "He was, IS, is-a Time Lord, but he's not a–plonker," she said, using this one's previous epithet. "He's actually quite wonderful. He saves people." She tossed the locks back, defiantly, and looked squarely at him, daring him to argue with her.

"I'm sure he does," the Doctor replied, kindly. Whoever this other-universe Time Lord was, he thought, there must be something decent about him, to have earned the admiration and loyalty of this woman. Maybe they weren't all so bad as here, over there, the Time Lords, where she came from.

Rose's stomach picked that moment to growl wildly, and despite her upturned emotional state, it made her smile, sheepishly. "I suppose I could use something to eat," she admitted.

"Hope you like trout," the Doctor replied, and he put on the tea kettle.

Over the Mountains of Solace, in the heart of the Citadel of the mighty Lords of Time, the Doctor Rose sought was in the soup. It was a cosy sort of soup, consisting of a comfortable chair in perfectly pleasant, climate-controlled surroundings, with a glass of sparkling punch to refresh him set before him on the conference table, but it was the soup nonetheless. He had been locked out of his Tardis, and it had been carted it away to some impound lot, he had been told, and now a score of officious Time Lords had been carrying on about "dangerous trans-dimensional destabilization curves" and "unauthorized capsules" and what-not, for the last two hours, quoting all the applicable statutes and regulations until his ears were ready to bleed.

"Yes, yes, but I've explained to you, already," he repeated for the hundredth time, "I've just popped into the wrong universe, didn't mean to do, so sorry, and I'd like to be on my way again. Then you'll have no more problem, will you?" he reasoned.

"Tut, tut," Braxiatel said, "but you are a mystery, sir, and we can't have that."

"No," Narvin agreed, "we require further explanation before we can allow anyone access to our technology."

"But it's not just YOUR technology, it's MINE, too, innit?, and that's MY capsule! My Time Lords gave it me, quite a while back!" the Doctor exclaimed. "I mean, I may have originally pinched it, won't deny it, but I say, that's all water under the bridge, now. Spilled milk, all sopped up with a nice piece of bread, no more crying over it, detente declared, so, really you MUST-" he was cut off.

"No need to shout, sir," Braxiatel admonished. He and Narvin were the stars of this circus, having been the ones to arrest the interloper, and they held court at either end of the conference table, which was ringed with all the other Time Lords and Ladies deemed of high enough rank to attend this opening interrogation.

A severe-looking Time Lady with a great deal of garish powder blue eye makeup tapped on the table with a sort of silver gavel. "I have decided!" she proclaimed. All eyes turned to her.

"Yes, Madame President?" Narvin said. "What is your decision?"

"We will convene an investigatory panel, to look into the matter. Doctor," she said, turning to their mysterious guest, "you will of course cooperate in any investigation, and remain on Gallifrey so that we may call upon you to submit to questioning."

"How long is that going to take?" the Doctor complained.

"Two to three months, I should think, to elect the members of the panel," the President replied, "and then evidentiary convocations should not take but six months, then there will be a preliminary report, followed of course by an opportunity for debate in the Council as to each point's veracity and admissibility, then revisions, the final report draft, and the Ruling Committee can take over from there. Not long."

The Doctor knew when he was beat. There was nothing for it but to roll over and play nice, for now. They would be less suspicious if he seemed fully cooperative. He decided to switch tactics. It would be all charm and graciousness from him, as far as they were concerned, and he would find his own way off this maddening planet.

He forced himself to relax away the tension in his body, letting a look of tranquil compliance overtake his visage. "Excellent course of action, Madam," he agreed. "I am all in! I will do anything I can to assist you in getting to the bottom of me. Big, hairy, mystery, me. Can't allow that. Must have a panel, of course we must!"

"Well, uh, yes," she replied. "Precisely."

"It's settled, then," Braxiatel declared. "I offer to take full charge of this man, since he claims he is my relation. I would like to take him back to our House, and see what the family physician can make of him. See if he really is homologous, and if so, to what extent, for one. I'm sure there's a good deal medical science could learn about trans-dimensional gene shift, if his claims are true. I'd like to know if there are, indeed, parallel little Lungbarrows running about somewhere in another dimension." He turned to the Doctor. "You won't mind providing tissue samples, will you?"

"Oh not at all, brother, not at all. Chuffed to bits to do it," the Doctor replied, while secretly thinking _take a slice out of me and I'll take one out of you_.

"Then we shall convene Monday next, half past the hour of the second quarter, in Council chambers, to begin the nomination process," the President decreed.

All abuzz, the roomful of Gallifrey's best and brightest began to disperse, discussing amongst themselves all the vagaries of the coming months of procedures, and how stimulating this all was, coming during what was normally a slow season for parliamentary proceedings.

"So," the Doctor said to Braxiatel, when they were finally left alone, "shall we mosey on, dear brother?"

"Mosey?" Braxiatel asked, puzzled at the word which would not translate.

"Oh, Brax, mosey–it's an Earth thing, cowboys say it, when they're punching cows," the Doctor explained.

Braxiatel shook his head, wondering why anyone would want to punch a large, peaceful herbivore.

As they made their way towards the transport hub where they could catch a short flight out to the Lungbarrow's secluded mountain family compound, and the Doctor's new life as a lab rat, Braxiatel asked him, "Where's Earth? Never heard of it."


	9. Chapter 9 - Meet the Acolytes

The Doctor's fried fish was good. Really, really good. "Mmmph, but I do miss having chips, too," Rose managed to get out over a mouthful of the most exquisitely thin-fried slivers of trout. The Doctor had been fishing them out for her, one at a time, from an iron vat of boiling fat set atop a smokey wood stove out in his back yard. Drained briefly on brown, stiff paper, he let each piece crisp up beautifully before he spatula'ed it over to her. She had been hungrier than she thought, and he was amused by how she was tucking it away.

"Oi, don't see you missing a thing there, you've about eaten a pound a' this already. Don't imagine you need chips, too, whatever those are," he protested. He was chuffed, actually. "Like to see a young lady with a hardy appetite," he complimented her.

The Doctor had seated Rose at a lovely hand-made picnic table cleverly constructed from long, rough-hewn logs and stumps. Rose wondered if he had made it himself. It was planed and smoothed to a fine finish. "I think this is the most comfortable chair I've ever sat on!" Rose complimented him. It was getting to be a regular love-fest back here, she thought. She should have known she would get on with any version of him, in any universe.

"Good thing you're Gallifreyanoid." He expertly flipped the fish over to brown the other side for a few seconds. "Fits yer bum."

"You mean Humanoid," Rose countered, a little intrigued he had thought about her bum. It made her want to look at his.

"No... I mean Gallifreyanoid." He glanced sideways at her through his lashes, pretending to tend to the fish, and not let her catch him staring. Except for the one heart, she sure looked like a female from his own species. And a gorgeous one, at that.

"Well, I'm definitely not Gallifreyan. Just Human," Rose assured him. "No regenerating, only got the one heart. Can't hold my breath for very long, either."

"Where are Humans from? In Gallifreyan terms–did he ever tell you? Never know, might have someplace like it here, too."

Rose pushed around the last bites on her plate; she was getting full, she realised. "Earth, well, it's the third planet in the Sol system, out on the arm of a spiral galaxy...Mutter's Spiral! That's what he called it. Mutter's Sprial…" She trailed off. She seemed to getting sad again.

He shook his head. "Sorry I brought it up. And no, there's nothing like you, in this universe, that I know of."

"I can't believe there's no Humans here!" Rose frowned. "He said our species spread over the whole universe, our universe, that is. That we were compatible with just about anything on two legs, that we were famous for successfully mating with aliens everywhere we went–" She caught herself up short, mortified. She was suddenly very embarrassed by the suggestive implications, given the fact there was a facsimile of a man she had been deeply in love with, standing just a few meters away, cooking for her, and for whom she had burned with a healthy dollop of lust. She blushed and ducked away from his gaze. What must he think of her, chasing after some other version of him across multiple dimensions? Maybe her species deserved their reputation. _Space slapper_, she thought. _Time tart._ She shook her head, grinning now.

"Hey, there's a smile! First one I've seen. Looks good on ye," he noted, not knowing the source of her amusement.

Rose noted his current batch of fish was burning. "Mind your pot," she pointed.

"Damn," he said, removing several pieces that were far over-browned now. "Let those get away from me. Save 'em for the cats." He did not mind so much, since he had been watching her instead of the fish. He did not mind such a fetching distraction as she. Not at all. He realised he was staring, gaping actually. Damn, he thought, get a grip, man. She was looking for another man, after all. Though it was him…kind of…sort of…

"Hallo!" a new voice rang out. Rose saw three people round the corner of the earth-home's embankment; two men, one the Doctor's age and one much older, and a woman. She was the same woman who had teased the Doctor before, in the street.

"Drax, Reglianavaldortura, glad you could stop by! I see you've drug old Jubi along," the Doctor smiled warmly at the older man.

"Can't miss a fish fry, at least, not one o' yers," the old man said, clapping the Doctor on his shoulder.

"This is my new friend," the Doctor stopped and his eyes grew wide as tea saucers. "I can't believe I've not asked yer name!" he said to Rose.

Rose laughed, for the second time since her arrival. "It's been a busy morning, hasn't it? It's o.k.," she said, standing to greet the Doctor's guests. "Name's Rose. Like the flower. I suppose you've at least got those here? Roses?"

The woman, whose name Rose did not dare to try repeating, wandered over next to her and motioned for her to sit back down. She smiled and assured her, "Yes, we've roses here, in Soror. Pretty ones, too, almost as pretty as you," she added, looking deeply into Rose's eyes. Rose blushed again at the attention.

"This Rose is from another universe," the Doctor bragged. "Says she risked life an' limb, comin' all this way, 'cause she's searchin' for a bloke looks just like me," he grinned. "How ye like that?"

The younger man, Drax, snorted as he joined the group at the picnic table. "Pish. Your big ears must've heard that one wrong, mate."

"Well," Rose amended, "the man I'm looking for used to look like you but he regenerated. He's all skinny and freckles, now, with dark eyes and hair that sticks straight up, great hair, actually…sports a pair of spectacles when the mood strikes him. And my Doctor, he's not a medical doctor, he's a Time Lord."

Drax and Reglianavaldortura wriggled uncomfortably at that information. Rose made a mental note not to mention Time Lords again in mixed company. They were obviously disliked by everyone, here. "Not a popular bunch, are they?" she asked, but got only polite silence in reply.

Looking over the villagers, Rose saw they were, all three, decked out in the same blue sarongs everyone here seemed to wear. Everyone except for the town physician, evidently, thought maybe he was having a lazy weekend and had not dressed, yet. Maybe he slept in those little, satin shorts or maybe he had pulled them on when he got up this morning, because he slept in nothing at all… She really had to stop staring at his legs, thinking things like that, she admonished herself.

She turned and asked the man called Drax, "I can't help noticing everyone here wears the same costume. Is it traditional?"

"It's our _kashaya_," Drax answered.

Rose just looked at him blankly.

"Our monks' robes," Drax added.

The Doctor and Jubi had finished frying up the rest of the fish and were bringing a huge platter of it over now, along with a large bowl of greens Jubi had brought along with him. They set both down on the table and joined the group. The Doctor's mouth was watering, ready to dig in.

Rose was speechless. Finally, she managed to squeak out, "You're monks?"

Reglianavaldortura giggled. "I prefer 'acolyte', personally, but that's all right," she said, "I'll answer to anything."

Rose sat a moment, trying to process this information. Feeling a deep disappointment rising again, for the second time today, she asked the Doctor, "So, are you a monk, too?"

"Yeah, sure I am," he said. He seemed genuinely surprised at her reaction. "Soror is a religious community, Rose. We're acolytes of the Sisterhood of Karn. Keep forgetting you don't know anything about where you are. Thought it was obvious."

"We keep the Pythian Mysteries," Drax said, reverently. Everyone at table bowed their heads, and Rose reluctantly followed along with the gesture.


End file.
